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Playing THE ULTIMATE FITNESS GAME (UFG)

I’m a techie guy, and I love everything about computers and electronics. When I started my exercise program, I was playing a lot of military games on my PlayStation. So when I came across Marine Corps cadences at www.militaryrecordings.com, they were the perfect accompaniment to my exercise program. I purchased two Marine Corps cadence CDs and downloaded them onto my Zune and let them take me to boot camp five or six times a week. (There’s a Marine Corps cadence CD for women, too.) I loved the beat, and I listened to the messages: Go strong! Don’t give up! Endure!

I discovered that I was a natural for Marine tactics. The cadences did more for me than the double workouts I’d done over the summer. I would like to thank the U.S. Marine Corps for my increase in speed and endurance. The cadences helped me run faster and longer. I repeated the messages back in my mind as I ran at full speed on the treadmill: One mile, no sweat. Two miles, no good. Three miles, we’re going strong. Four miles, we’re almost there. Five miles, we’re going home.

I felt like I was training alongside the Marines, listening to the sound of boots hitting the ground and dog tags jingling. Wearing my own dog tags tucked under my shirt, I imagined I was running at Parris Island instead of the Forsyth County, Georgia, YMCA. The cadences kept me disciplined and inspired. If I could keep up with Marine training, even if just on the CDs, I felt I’d accomplished something pretty great for a boy who, a year ago, couldn’t run a 20-yard dash.

I still wear dog tags when I work out, and I still listen to cadences. When I feel like I can’t go any farther, I crank up the volume and let the Marines tell me I can.

I tackled the physical part of my fitness program by turning my training over to the Marines. I let the cadences motivate me as I followed the YMCA’s exercise plan. The more I worked out, the more calories I burned. It actually became fun. And without realizing it, I began approaching fitness just like I played a video game. I called my approach the ULTIMATE FITNESS GAME.

THE ULTIMATE FITNESS GAME (UFG)

In most video games, you follow a path and confront obstacles along the way. Dangers lurk in dark, narrow corridors. You enter a room and everything you click on offers you a choice. And there’s always something you run out of: ammo, money, energy, stamina, health. I play UFG like calories are the money that I’ll run out of if I don’t spend wisely.

I follow a road through my day, and I have a choice of transportation, just like I’d have in a video game. I can run down the road and increase my skill level, or I can hop in a car and drive. Every time I decide to walk or run, I add money to my account because I’m burning more calories.

Obstacles are everywhere. Each room I enter offers choices. In the kitchen and the school lunchroom, all sorts of “dangerous” foods loom out at me. They look good, but they have high price tags and do nothing to advance me in UFG. In fact, they fight against fitness. I have to make my money last all day and cover my necessary expenses, so I can’t be tricked into buying dangerous foods. They’re the enemy.

The Money

Each morning, I calculate how much “money” I have to spend for that day—one dollar for every calorie I’ll burn. I know that my BMR is 1,850. (That’s the amount of calories I’d burn if I did nothing all day. You can find BMR calculators on a lot of Internet sites.) I know I’ll burn a couple of hundred more calories just working at my computer, talking, walking to class, and doing normal stuff. And I know that my body will burn an extra 10 percent of the calories I consume just to digest my food. So if I’m sick in bed with a cold, I still have more than $2,000 to spend without gaining weight. For all other days, I factor in my exercise to determine my “salary” for the day.

I usually take a break from the Y on Saturday and just hang out with friends, see a movie, or work on my computer. I figure I can safely spend $2,000 on lazy Saturdays. My weekend treat is usually a 12-inch plain meat sub, so I know I’ll spend $600 for supper. That leaves me $1,400 for the rest of the day. As soon as I wake up and determine my salary for the day, I start planning how to spend it. And I keep a running count all day so my money lasts the full sixteen hours I’m awake. I like math, so I figure everything in my head. But most cell phones and computers have calculators, so anyone can keep track of calories.

I know that on a no-exercise day I’m on a tight budget, so just like I was shopping on a budget, I look for bargains. If I can find a two-for-one sale, that helps me stretch my budget. I can buy two pieces of whole-grain bread for $50 each instead of one piece of regular bread for $100.

One frosted cupcake may cost $350, so I can’t afford that kind of splurge too often. I have bills to pay: meat, milk, fruit, veggies, and whole grains. These foods are like my basic house and car payments, insurance, and utilities. Until I pay them, I’d be irresponsible to spend my money on luxuries. The basic foods are where I get my energy. If I don’t pay for them first, I’ll run out of energy before I run out of day.

I consider snack treats like my real-life movie budget. Since I’m on a tight budget and don’t have much money to go to the movies, I may be able to go only once a month. When I realize that my favorite candy bar will cost me $230, I know I will rarely have the money to buy a candy bar.

On days I go to the Y, I feel like I got a big sales bonus at work and I have more money to spend. I know that just forty-five minutes of free weights will burn about 350 calories, so on days when I know I’m going to do free weights, I add $350 to my starting budget. On a regular busy day with exercise, I start my day with $2,500 to $2,600.

That’s more than enough if I play the game right. But if enemy foods lure me into spending too much of my money, I’ll end up broke too early and GAME OVER will print across the day’s screen. Then I’ll have long hours that night with no money left to buy food.

The Obstacles

It would be easier to spend my money wisely if I lived in a vacuum, but as I travel through the day playing UFG, there’s always danger of a lag. People enter the road from narrow paths, and the game can get congested. Some offer me chips and milkshakes. Others offer steamed veggies and high-protein snacks. Each time someone offers me something, I have to make a decision—a decision I live with for the rest of the day.

Now that I’ve lost weight, some people say, “You’re too thin. You need to eat.” Or “One cookie won’t hurt you.” Friends and family mean well, but each time they offer me an off-limits food, they’re sabotaging my strategy. So I turn around and run, just the way I’d take another path to avoid an enemy in a game.

The object of UFG is to get down the road and through the maze of rooms without running out of money. At night, I can save the game and start again the next day. I get to keep my overall score (my weight loss), but I start each morning with a new budget for that day.

The Big Win

Some games have only one winner, but not UFG. It’s more like the video games where you’re the only player. You compete against yourself and you try to beat your own best score, to do better than the day before. Everyone can play, and everyone can win.

I call it the ULTIMATE FITNESS GAME because the prize is a whole new lifestyle. At the end of the game, you peel back the fat suit you’ve been hiding behind and you show the world the amazing person who’s been there all along. It’s sort of like letting the superhero take off his disguise after he fights all the bad guys. Now the world knows your true identity. You introduce the world to the person you’ve always been.

The Strategy

The hardest parts of the game are figuring out the strategy and getting started. A video game comes with a game guide, and you have basic rules to follow, but you eventually develop your own game strategy. It’s the same with UFG. I can tell you the basics, but in the end, you have to develop a personal strategy that works for you.

And the best way to get started is to tackle fitness a little at a time. When you play a video game, you don’t worry about the whole game at the same time. You start down a corridor and worry only about the dangers in that part of the game. You have to do that in UFG, too. If you don’t, the game will seem overwhelming and you’ll quit on the first screen.

The Climb

I remember how hopeless I felt when I knew I had more than 100 pounds to lose. It was like looking down a long road that I couldn’t see the end of. Somewhere way down past the trees and the rocks and the turns in the road, a treasure might be waiting for me. But I couldn’t see the prize, so it didn’t seem real. I had to learn to divide my large goal of losing 100 pounds into smaller goals and face the small ones head on.

When I first started working out and eating right, I felt like I had just been belted into a roller coaster. I could hear the gears clacking, and I was on a steep climb. It was scary, but I told myself it was too late to get off. For a long time, it was a slow uphill ride. I worked out and no one noticed the difference. I totally changed my diet, and even I didn’t feel much thinner.

But just like when you reach the top of a roller coaster and start dropping so fast that you feel like your stomach is in your throat, I reached a peak in the program. All of a sudden my pants size started dropping, and I felt like the weight was melting off. And the thrill was worth the long upward climb.

The Choices

As I started the long climb to a new lifestyle, I found that eliminating choices helped me eat right. The fewer choices I had to make, the easier it was to stick to my routine.

I eventually developed a basic diet that continues to work for me. There’s enough variation to make eating enjoyable, but it’s so regimented that I never have to ask myself, “Should I have a piece of cake? Do I want a bedtime snack?” Those options aren’t included in my routine.

And I don’t have to ask myself whether I’ll work out. Exercise is no longer a choice. It’s as much a part of my daily routine as brushing my teeth. My routine varies according to the busyness of the day, but I always exercise. Some days I do cardio, and some days—if I’m extra-tired, stay late at school, or have an evening activity—I don’t. But some sort of workout is nonnegotiable.

The Schedule

This has been my typical day for more than two years:

My alarm goes off at 5:20 AM. I know I’m starting a new phase of UFG, so I calculate my “salary” for the day. Usually it’s about $2,500, or 2,500 calories. When that’s gone, it’s gone.

With the day’s budget established, I go to the kitchen and grab a handful of low-sugar whole-grain cereal. I can now easily judge a three-quarter cup serving size. I pour half a cup of milk into the cereal (I can now visually measure my milk serving). I add a fat-free or low-fat/low-sugar pro-digestive yogurt, and breakfast is served.

At school, I’m involved in a program that lets me do a lot of walking around campus. My stomach is gnawing a little by midmorning, so during my 10:20 break, I have an oats and honey granola bar. That sustains me till lunch.

Our school has no cafeteria, so lunch is catered from local fast-food restaurants. One day, they bring in pizza, another day Mexican, and so on. Those are choices I can’t afford. Since we have microwaves in our eating area, I bring a Healthy Choice dinner for lunch. That way, I make my choices among the variety of portion-controlled dinners instead of choosing whether I’ll have one or two slices of pizza. I have a bottle of water with lunch, and my major treat is always a Coke Zero.

If I have an extra snack for lunch, I do the math and know what to eliminate later in the day. And an “extra snack” is never junk. If someone brings cupcakes or cookies to school for a birthday, I just say no thanks. I can enjoy celebrating with my friends without messing up the running score I’m keeping for UFG.

By the time the school bell rings at 3:00 PM, I’m famished. I have three slices of lean turkey on two slices of whole-grain bread—no mayonnaise or other condiments, and no cheese. As we drive to the Y, I eat a low-sugar meal-replacement protein bar. I choose the ones with 28–32 grams of protein because I know I’ll need energy for my workout.

By now, I’ve probably had 1,450 calories. It may sound extreme for me to be so exact, but I know what I eat. I’m aware. It’s all part of UFG, so I keep tallying my score throughout the day.

It’s not just a matter of resisting enemy foods; part of the strategy is choosing the right foods. Each time I buy protein or other important nutrients, I increase my energy score, just like when you pick up new weapons and prizes as you play a video game. Instead of concentrating on taste sensations, I’m focusing on what I need for energy. I know I have only a certain amount of money to spend, and I use strategy to spend it wisely. If I want to have strength for my workout, I have to buy foods that provide energy, and I have to keep my spending within my budget.

At the Y, I do 45–55 minutes of physical training. I start with the machines that tone various parts of my body. Then I do free-weight arm curls, bench presses, leg presses, ab crunches, chest presses, and end with time on a rowing machine.

Then I hop onto the treadmill. I run one to five miles, depending on how much time we have. Five miles adds forty or so minutes to the workout, but if we have time, I love it. It’s my stress reliever. If I feel angry about something, I run longer. I also do the stair climber, the elliptical, and other heavy workout machines.

As soon as I progressed to free weights, they became most important. Free weights do more for overall fitness than weight machines, treadmills, and ellipticals and burn just as many calories. They’ve definitely become the favorite part of my workout.

Until you get some experience, weight machines are safer and more effective than free weights. You can set machines to the exact amount of weight you want to use, you can adjust the seat height, and you can follow clear instructions on how to use them (usually posted on the machines). And most important, you don’t have to worry about dropping the weights.

The problem with weight machines is that the machines cause your movements to be so smooth that the lifting is a little easier and you don’t get quite as tough a workout as you get with free weights. And if you position your body certain ways on most machines, you can “cheat” by moving just enough to register a repetition but not enough to work your muscles.

Free weights definitely give you a tougher workout, but they’re not for beginners. They can be dangerous if you drop them, and you can injure yourself if you don’t use them properly. Free weights require special training, but learning to use them is worth the effort.

Now that I’ve had training with free weights, here’s my basic workout schedule: I spend about 70 percent of my time with weights and 30 percent on cardio exercise (treadmills and ellipticals).

I divide my weight exercises into two-thirds free weights (arm curls, bench presses, leg presses, ab crunches, and chest presses) and one-third weight machines. There’s no way to cheat with free weights, so you’re sure to get a good workout. But since I still need guidance in doing some exercises safely and properly, I use a combination of free weights and weight machines that fits my experience level.

I cool down on the way home, and I can feel myself getting hungry. I know this is a danger time. It would be easy to grab the first food I see as I walk through the door, but the game’s still on, and I don’t let myself binge.

Supper varies, but I choose from a short list of options, and I choose foods and serving sizes based on the money I have left to spend. Sometimes we stop on the way home for sub sandwiches. Mine is always turkey, chicken, or roast beef on wheat—with no high-calorie add-ons, only lettuce, onions, peppers, spinach, and other low-cal trimmings. Sometimes I have cereal. I may have another sandwich. My family may have grilled chicken, steak, or salmon, along with steamed vegetables. My grandmother also makes me healthy versions of my favorite foods, like whole-wheat spaghetti with low-fat, low-sodium sauce and ground sirloin meatballs. Whatever I have, I measure serving sizes.

Then I take the stairs to my bedroom two or three at a time. I have a dorm fridge in my room stocked with Coke Zero and bottled water. I drink a Coke Zero and a bottle of water while I do homework and watch TV. I don’t have anything else after supper. I had to train myself not to take food to my room, but now it’s not even an option.

By the end of a busy day, I’ve had 2,500 to 2,600 calories. I keep a running tally in my head, and I always round up. If a frozen dinner has 330 calories, I round up to 350. It’s easier to keep track, and it gives me a cushion in case I’ve measured too big a serving. If my weight goes up a pound, I reduce my salary for a week.

PLAYING TO WIN

My approach to fitness is so much like a video game that most kids can catch on quickly to how it’s played. In UFG, like most games, you travel a maze. You fight the enemy. You progress to a new level. But whatever you do, at every turn you find a choice. And the decision you make takes you on a certain path. Every time I reach a bump in the road and have to make a decision, I try to remember that each decision will take me on a different path.

You start most video games with a certain amount of something vital that you need to complete the game. How you use your resources determines whether you can finish the game. So that’s the way I approach each day’s eating. I start the day with a certain amount of money/calories. Each time I reach a decision point, I have to decide how much money to spend and whether the foods I buy will be powerful enough to get me through the day. I know I need protein, complex carbs, essential fats, and a variety of vitamins and minerals, and I have to spend my money carefully to be sure I’ve picked up everything I need by the end of the day. The whole day becomes a strategy.

Sometimes I get hungry. I want a second sandwich or an extra serving of chicken. But I act as my own drill sergeant. I tell myself, “You don’t need it. You’ll be fine till supper.” I control the day with willpower instead of letting my taste buds control it for me. It feels good to be stronger than the foods that call out to me. I haven’t had pizza in more than two years.

When someone at school offers me a snack, it’s no longer hard to say, “No, thanks.” Sure, a gooey snack would taste good for a few minutes, but I never want to go back to those 44–waist jeans.